


You're My...

by thefourthdickinson



Series: A Half-Finished Story [1]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, College, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Series, There will be a sequel, basically pitch perfect 2 but the way i wanted it to happen, bemily, implied staubrey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:21:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29883813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefourthdickinson/pseuds/thefourthdickinson
Summary: Emily finds she wants more than a mentor. Meanwhile, Beca is unreasonably fixated on the new legacy. Wait, no she isn’t. Who told you that? Shut up. (Events loosely based on PP2).
Relationships: Emily Junk/Beca Mitchell
Series: A Half-Finished Story [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197182
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hoping I'm not the only one hopping back on the Bemily train in 2021. Dropping the first few chapters simultaneously so y'all can get to the fun stuff sooner than later. Enjoy!

In the week between freshman orientation and auditions, Emily Junk spent almost all of her time in her dorm room, writing ferociously in her song journal. 

She knew singing her own song would be risky, but from what she had seen, nothing about the Barden Bellas was traditional. That’s exactly why she had to join them — well that, and her mother’s promise that it would be a life changing experience similar to the one she had had decades ago. So, she pored over the lyrics of her latest composition, tweaking and editing until the words lost all their meaning. By the time she entered the auditorium on the day of auditions, she felt confident. 

That is, until the Bellas were nowhere to be found.

Emily scrambled to check her phone. Had she mixed up her buildings? Did she have the wrong time or — dear god — the wrong day? But no, she had walked past several other auditioning groups on her way to the main auditorium. There had to be a reason. And she had to sing for them. She put her phone to her ear. 

“Hey mom? Where did you say the old Bellas house is?”

Fifteen minutes later she stood outside the address she was given, trying to collect herself as she climbed the brick steps to the door. She knocked. The second “Fat Amy” opened the door (Emily knew most of the older girls from recordings and interviews), all of her composure, and the speech she had rehearsed, left her. 

“Um — I, um, just came from auditions, you guys weren’t there,” Emily kicked herself internally for pointing out the obvious, “I was hoping for the chance to sing for you.”

“No, can’t help you, we’re not allowed to take anyone else new.”

Blind enthusiasm was the only reason she persisted when the door swung shut in her face. “No no no, wait, I’m a Junk!” she called through the narrowing gap. And while that phrase didn’t have the intended effect, it piqued Cynthia Rose’s curiosity enough to get her inside and face to face with the majority of the group. Luckily, Chloe, one of the two co-captains, did recognize her mother’s name and legacy status.

“Okay,” Chloe sat down on the couch eagerly, “Show us what you got.”

“Right now? Right here? Right here right now?” Emily didn’t know why she felt less prepared than she had an hour ago, or why she was being so goddamn awkward. Maybe it had to do with how many gorgeous girls had their eyes on her at once. Her mother’s Bellas stories did not prepare her for the bisexual panic she was now facing. _How are they even prettier in person?_

By some blessing, after several bombed jokes and complimenting Amy’s genitals, she got the go ahead to start singing. So, she closed her eyes and lost herself in her music, nerves melting away as she went. By the end of her chorus, she was beaming.

“Will you excuse us for a second?” Chloe asked when she finished. Emily nodded politely, but the group of girls didn’t go anywhere, simply drawing together in the middle of the room. It wasn’t exactly private, as Amy pointed out, but no one seemed to care. Nor did Emily, as it let her catch a few hushed comments. 

A “she’s pretty good” from Chloe made her glow with pride, having a deep respect for the redhead. “It’s always good to have an extra body” simply confused her, but she didn’t give it too much thought. Amy made a snide comment about her “giraffe legs,” which genuinely hurt. Soon after, she heard the name “Beca.” 

As in Beca Mitchell. Emily had been captivated by the feisty Bellas co-captain the moment she watched her debut at Lincoln Center three years ago, and had devoured every performance and every interview since. The girl was unshakeable, fearless in her music, and delightfully sarcastic. The way she transformed songs was something Emily could only aspire to. She considered Beca’s absence now both a blessing and a curse. While she wanted to sing for the iconic musician one day, seeing her at an audition might have made her choke, literally.

She was torn from her thoughts by the trilling of the girls as they broke apart. Chloe smiled warmly. “Welcome to the Bellas!” Emily whooped, and couldn’t stop herself from improvising a victory dance. Cynthia Rose saved her from herself, deciding it was time for them all to celebrate at a Treblemakers party.

Emily strolled in at the back of the pack and was immediately inundated with loud music and shouting. The bass thrummed in her chest, and she took a deep breath. _Wow, my first college party._

Her new friends dispersed into the crowd, leaving Emily alone as she took in her surroundings. It was just like the movies; everyone even had their own red plastic cup. Realizing she was on her own, and hands feeling conspicuously empty, she looked toward the bar. Stacie, who she’d met earlier, stood nearby, talking with an attractive, dark-haired girl in a leather jacket. Emily approached. Maybe Stacie could recommend a drink, or at least introduce her to her hot friend— 

_Holy shit_ . Emily froze in her tracks. She recognized that hair now. The signature brunette waves were pinned back on one side, showing off an ear full of spikes and other piercings. Emily was not ready for this. She wasn’t even dressed for a party, let alone this moment, and whatever poise she had had for the day had already been spent on her audition. _Bail. Bail bail bail,_ her brain screamed, but it was too late. Stacie had already seen her and nodded in her direction. 

Beca Mitchell turned around and met her gaze with piercing blue eyes. 

* * *

Beca sighed in the back of the Lyft, half-wishing it were the back of Jesse’s car so she’d have someone to whine to about her hellish first day. It had been three months since they’d broken up — Beca finally coming to terms with her _exclusive_ preference for women — and while the relentlessly optimistic Treble claimed he was cool with being friends, Beca felt like asking for rides and initiating vent sessions was crossing a line. She couldn’t exactly talk to Chloe, either. The second she’d gotten this producing internship, she’d sworn herself and Stacie to total secrecy, knowing the redhead would not take kindly to any distraction from the Bellas’ success. Case in point, Beca had received roughly a dozen texts from the co-captain this afternoon:

_[2:22] Hiiii :) wanna get a coffee w me??_

_[2:29] Ok i’m going w CR and Flo_

_[2:30] Let me know if u want anything!! <3_

_[3:44] Ur busy but i have ideas for Bellas arrangements! Tell u at dinner!_

_[6:03] Uggggh WHERE R U?!_

_[6:57] Becs, i’m starting to worry. Plssss just text me back_

_[7:21] Wow a Bellas legacy just showed up!! Like out of nowhere!! She’s a JUNK :O_

_[7:22] She’s got solid vocals and she’s kinda hot_

_[7:22] Not as hot as u ;)_

_[7:23] Anyway since she’s a legacy we had to take her_

_[7:27] Stacie keeps telling me not to worry but u might be dead???_

_[7:29] We’re going to the trebles party!! Meet us there if you’re alive!!!_

Chloe’s on-screen stream of consciousness made Beca feel slightly bad, but also doubly-confirmed her decision to keep her whereabouts private. For now, anyway. She would tell Chloe eventually. Rolling her eyes, Beca clicked over to her other two unread texts, from Stacie.

_[7:06] How was the first day? Are you famous yet? :P_

_[7:28] Chloe is losing her mind. Going to get her drunk at Trebles. C u soon :*_

With that, the car pulled up outside the Treblemakers’ house. She thanked the driver, chucked her bag in Jesse’s room for safekeeping (she hoped that, at least, wasn’t overstepping), and headed out to the pool area in search of Stacie, or at least a drink. Finding the latter almost immediately, she slowly sipped and surveyed the crowd. Across the yard, Amy was flirt-fighting with Bumper, who kept showing up to these things despite being “very successful.” Near them, Jesse seemed to be giving Benji a much needed pep talk. She caught his eye and he returned her wave cheerfully. Finally, her eyes fell on Stacie, who was predictably (and indiscriminately) flirting with half of the people at the outdoor bar. Beca made her way over. 

“Hey hot stuff!” Stacie gave Beca a tight, unrequited squeeze. “How was it?” she whispered.

“Eye-opening,” Beca replied wryly.

Stacie snorted and then tilted her head. “You know, Chloe’s been really worried about you all day. When are you gonna tell her?”

“Oh,” Beca hesitated, waving her hand dismissively. “She’s like… lost in another world right now and I’m looking for the right time. It’s — I’ll tell her.” 

Stacie opened her mouth to reply but stopped, eyes twinkling as she looked over Beca’s shoulder. “I think you have a fan club,” she smirked, backing away, “I’ll just leave you to it.”

“What?” Beca watched her friend go, then turned around. A lanky girl with cascading brown hair stared back at her, face frozen between a grin and a grimace. Beca raised her eyebrows.

“Hi!” The girl finally choked out, “I am so excited to finally meet the woman who single-handedly created the Bella sound.” Beca nodded along awkwardly. “We’re sisters! I can’t believe we’re sisters,” the girl continued.

“Oh! Yea, hi,” Beca put the pieces together, “Chloe texted me we added a legacy, I didn’t even know that was a thing.”

The freshman continued to ramble, giving her new captain time to truly take her in. She had a face several years younger than the rest of her, the round shape starkly juxtaposed by her long, lean frame. It suited her, though, and Beca liked how her wide eyes crinkled into a squint every time she grinned. 

“So...what do you think?” 

“Umm,” Beca was saved from pretending she had been listening by a shriek, a blur of red hair, and a loud splash. Being one of the few equipped to bring Chloe down from a tequila-induced euphoria, she hustled over to the pool to inform her friend that her cinematic moment was, in fact, not happening. As she helped Chloe out of the pool, she glanced back to the bar. The legacy — Emily, or something like that — was kindly tolerating a conversation with Benji. He said something that elicited a giggle, her eyes squinting to accommodate that wide smile again. 

Was it a polite laugh? A nervous one? 

More importantly, why did Beca care?


	2. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stacie is a menace. Our favorite kind of menace, though.

Beca sat up straighter in her chair, her feeble attempt at an arrangement forgotten on her laptop screen. It had only been a handful of weeks, but the Bellas were already back in routine, reinvigorated by new blood and a chance at Worlds. Currently, half the team was cycling through choreography drills while the other half got a study break (a compromise that was Chloe’s way of holding grueling rehearsals without going full drill sergeant). The new legacy was dancing in the front row.

The freshman had taken Chloe’s request that they come in “active apparel” more seriously than most, arriving in short black running shorts and a flowing, oversized t-shirt. The top had slipped off one shoulder as she danced, revealing the gentle slope where lightly tanned shoulder met delicate collarbone. That patch of skin had Beca’s full attention. Well, that and every single muscle in the girl’s toned legs, which flexed and stretched in time to the music. 

She wasn’t ogling, she told herself. As one of the Bellas captains, it happened to be her job to supervise the other girls. And it’s perfectly normal that she would want to keep a closer eye on the new— 

“You still drooling over the legacy?” Stacie’s voice in her ear made her jump, the taller girl hugging Beca from behind. Beca tolerated this.

“I, what? No, I don’t—” 

“You do. I would know. You’re making the same drool face that you used to make at Chloe before you two finally hooked up and got that out of your system.”

Beca took a deep breath, trying to force the flush out of her face before someone noticed. “Okay, one: I told you that in confidence. Two: we don’t even know if she likes girls.”

“Mm, I know my stuff. She definitely swings both ways.”

“Yea, you said that about Aubrey, too, and look how that ended.”

“I’ll admit I was wrong there,” Stacie grinned, leaning closer, “I found out this summer that she only swings one way — toward me.”

“STACIE!” Beca yelped, earning the pair a glare from Chloe.

“Becs, Stace, if you can’t be quiet for this, I  _ will _ separate you,” the redhead scolded.

“Sorry Chlo,” Stacie apologized, “Why don’t I come help teach the dance instead?”

Beca shot her a suspicious glare. Her friend shot back her signature  _ I’m about to prove my point _ smirk, before prancing off among the Bellas. 

The syncopated bass of the music started up again and Stacie wound her way between the rows of practicing girls, nailing the choreography as she moved. Beca let out a soft groan when she saw her stop next to Emily. No, not next to her — Stacie was dancing  _ on _ the freshman, letting their hips brush and draping an arm around her neck, all while whispering the song’s lyrics in a sultry voice. The legacy’s own dancing stuttered like a short-circuit and then came to a standstill. She stood frozen and sputtering as the older girl quite literally  _ wrapped _ around her, eyes doubled in size.

That was enough to set Chloe off for real, sending both Stacie and Beca to run the bleachers for the rest of rehearsal. When Beca denied her involvement, Chloe gave her a hurt look and pointed out her chronic lateness. So Beca ran extra hard to burn off the guilt.

“You know that didn’t mean anything,” she gasped at Stacie, who had sat down after a single lap to file a nail. 

“Of course it did! She looked at my boobs. Twice.”

“It’s hard not to look at those things when you shove them in everyone’s face.”

Stacie shrugged, “Believe whatever you want, babe. I know what I saw.”

* * *

Emily really hoped Stacie didn’t notice her looking at her boobs.

She was still earning her place in the Bellas, and she wanted to make a good impression, especially in front of Beca. She felt like the senior was scrutinizing her at every rehearsal. Was it because she missed her audition? Did she think accepting her was a mistake?

Whatever the reason, all of Beca’s staring made it hard for Emily to do what she wanted to do: stare back. Beca was rarely seen for more than five minutes at a time outside of practice, only ever coming back to the Bellas house to sleep. So rehearsals were Emily’s only opportunity to get to know her hero. Not that she’d had the nerve to say anything yet. 

Emily slid her bag over her shoulder and ventured a glance toward the co-captain. She was still packing up, cramming her laptop and some papers into her own bag.  _ Come on. Make an impression. _ Taking a deep breath, Emily approached. “Is it weird that we never got around to singing today?” 

“Well,” Beca looked up but continued packing, “it’s kind of hard to start singing without arrangements, and that’s on me, so… thank you for reminding me.” 

The ice in Beca’s voice made Emily’s shoulders scrunch up to her ears. Before she could recover, Chloe cut in.

“Yea, Becs, we’re gonna need that ASAP so we can start nailing down our choreography.”

“Right on top of that, Chlo.”

“Awes!”

“Yea, awes.” 

Emily saw a muscle in the senior’s jaw twitch. It should’ve been enough warning to drop it, but her brain had already committed to the conversation in full. She cleared her throat and continued. 

“So, I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been working on calming my nerves, keeping my eyes open, you know…”

Beca’s eyes were on her phone. 

“...and I was wondering if you could give me some pointers. And, you know, with the singing, I don’t know exactly —”

“I don’t mean to be rude, I just have somewhere that I need to be.”

“Oh.”

“You, uh, did great today.”

“Thanks.”

And with that, Beca brushed past her and was gone. Emily let the polite smile fall from her face. She had somehow been entirely ignored by her idol while also possibly offending her. 

_ Yep. Great impression. _

* * *

**Chloe:** _ You were kinda terse with Emily earlier _

**Beca:** _ who? _

**Chloe:** _Omg Beca. The LEGACY._

**Beca:** _joking_

**Beca:** _i was just in a hurry_

**Chloe:** _ To where? _

**Beca:** _ … you really think she took it that bad? _

**Chloe:** _When you left she looked like a kicked puppy_

**Beca:** _yikes. let me make it up to you?_

**Chloe:** _It’s not ME you need to apologize to but fine_

**Chloe:** _You can make it up to ALL the Bellas_

**Beca:** _...no_

**Chloe** :  _ Yes _

**Beca:** _ NO _

**Chloe:** _YES_

**Beca:** _chlo pls_

**Chloe:** _WE’RE_

**Chloe:** _GOING_

**Chloe:** _OUT_


	3. An Unexpected Conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These chapters will be getting longer as we go, promise. Also, CW: alcohol, brief sexual harassment

Emily was sitting in her bed, dwelling on her failed interaction from the day before, when her phone buzzed. It was from a number she didn’t recognize.

 **678-414-3214** : _hey legacy_

Emily frowned. When she had joined the Bellas, everyone had added their number to her phone on the way to the Treblemakers party. Everyone except — 

**Emily** : _Beca?_

 **678-414-3214** : _oh shit sorry yea_

 **678-414-3214** : _wyd?_

She searched her mind for something cool she _could_ be doing, given that she was currently in sweatpants, eating stale tortilla chips. 

**Emily** : _Practicing choreo, why?_

 **678-414-3214** : _chloe is demanding a bellas outing. now._

 **Emily:** _Where?_

 **678-414-3214** : _revolve. dress up_

 **678-414-3214** : _oh, and bring $20 for the bouncer if you don’t have a fake. chloe says your drinks are on me_

Emily evaluated her reflection in the mirror on her door. Her free orientation t-shirt had crumbs stuck to it. Scrambling up, she rummaged in her closet for an outfit worthy of the local club known as rEVOLVE. 

She was gonna give Beca Mitchell a girl worth buying drinks for. 

When she entered the club in a tight, aqua blue dress, her ears were inundated with whoops and hollers. Cynthia Rose wolf whistled. “Oh my god!” Chloe exclaimed. Even Amy gave her a begrudging compliment. 

She barely heard any of it. She had spotted the short brunette. Beca was clad in all-black everything: skin tight jeans, ripped at one knee; a cropped leather jacket; and underneath, a thin black blouse, unbuttoned low enough for Emily to tell that Beca had gone without a bra. It took a conscious effort for her to pick up her jaw, and before she could do much more, a manicured hand was dragging her through the throng.

Stacie delivered Emily face to face with Beca. 

“Becs, have you _seen_ this girl??” Stacie gestured up and down Emily’s body like a car salesman. Emily flushed.

“Uh, yes, Stace,” Beca swallowed hard. Then her slate blue eyes met Emily’s. “You look great, Legacy.” The sincerity in her voice made Emily’s stomach somersault.

“You two chat, I’ll get drinks.”

A couple drinks and a round of shots later, Emily really felt like she was becoming part of the group. She’d had a dance off with Flo, and Chloe had talked her into doing a body shot off of Stacie. Even Beca, who had been nursing the same beer all night, was starting to open up a bit. 

“So you write your own songs? Like, a lot of them?”

“Yea, it’s… most of them are stupid, but — “

“Are you kidding? Dude, it’s not stupid at all. I’m jealous.” 

“You are?” Emily looked at the senior with stars in her eyes. Or maybe she was just dizzy. She swayed slightly, and the shorter girl caught her by the elbow.

“Okay lightweight, how about we go sit down, hm?”

Emily slid into a booth across from Beca. They were soon joined by Stacie, who rushed up with a pout. 

“Becaaaaa,” she whined, shoving a half-empty glass in front of her friend’s face. Beca sighed.

“What’s wrong with it?” 

“It’s a rum and coke. I wanted rum and pepsi.”

“You already drank half of it.”

“I was thirsty.”

Emily giggled, watching the captain’s resolve crumble under Stacie’s puppy dog eyes. 

“Fine. Be right back.”

Stacie stole Beca’s seat and fixed Emily with a mischievous gaze that warmed the girl involuntarily. No wonder Stacie pulled whoever she wanted. 

“So, how’s your night? You and Beca seem to be getting along,” the older girl ventured, voice laced with faux-casualness.

“Yea, it’s been nice,” the freshman smiled softly, eyes moving toward the bar at the mention of the senior. Stacie began to say something else, but her voice faded into the background as Emily tuned into what was happening across the club. 

Beca leaned against the bar, waiting for Stacie’s new drink. A greasy looking frat boy sidled up behind her and did something that made Beca jump. She whipped around and looked to be telling him off, but he just leaned closer. A venomous heat bubbled up in the back of Emily’s throat. 

“It’s okay, Em, she’s got it,” Stacie patted her arm, “Look.”

The bartender returned with the fresh glass. Beca snagged it and nimbly ducked under the creep’s arm, returning to the booth. She didn’t look back, but Emily did, and saw the young man make an obscene gesture. The angry heat reached her ears. 

“‘Sup nerds?” Beca said cheerfully, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Emily’s own eyes burned. She was seeing red.

* * *

Beca dropped herself down next to Stacie, sliding the requested cocktail to her. 

“Tom again?”

Beca nodded, rolling her eyes, “He’s harmless, but I wish he would quit grabbing my ass. Creep.”

Stacie draped an arm around her petite friend and sighed dramatically, “If only the men of the world could accept that you are, in fact, a massive lesbian.”

Beca chuckled. Then she registered what Stacie had said and glanced toward Emily, hoping to catch her response. But the booth was empty. She turned back to Stacie, “Do you know where Legacy went?”

Stacie shrugged, “Bathroom? She did drink a LOT for a baby Bella.” She bumped shoulders with Beca. “Why? Miss her already?”

Beca shouldered her back, “I told you, I don’t — “

The whole club heard a loud crack — the sound of a fist hitting bone. 

"Stay the FUCK away from her!" 

Emily was yelling at Tom, lunging forward a second time. Beca watched, stunned, as Amy and Cynthia Rose pulled the freshman off of the now cowering man. He was nursing a bloody lip. _Jesus christ,_ she thought. No one had ever heard the legacy yell before, let alone seen her throw a punch. Her stomach fluttered. She ignored it. Amy deposited the young girl back into the booth across from Beca. "She's your problem now, captain. Bouncer says you gotta take her home.” She nodded toward Emily, “Nice right hook, dumbass,” before meandering back to the bar.

Emily’s chest heaved as Beca stared at her, either from exertion, sheer drunkenness, or guilt. Her hair was mussed, and her makeup slightly smeared — walking a line between glamor and something much more wild. It made Beca’s insides light up.

There was no time to unpack that just now. Better to focus on exiting the bar before Emily had a second, more tearful meltdown. The girl’s eyes were already starting to well up. 

“Beca, I’m so—”

“You’re okay, Legacy.”

“But I—”

“Nope, not hearing it. Let’s get going.”

* * *

The walk to the Bellas house wasn’t far, but the fact that Beca didn’t speak to or so much as look at Emily the entire way made it feel like a marathon. Emily trailed her lamely, trying to get a read on the older girl. She didn’t seem mad, but she was definitely unsettled. Even if Beca wasn’t _personally_ upset with her, what if she had broken some kind of rule? What if she had just gotten them even more banned than they already were? 

Oh god, what if she had to kick her out of the Bellas?

By the time they finally reached the steps of the house, Emily’s chest was on the brink of caving in. “If you just give me ten— no, five minutes, I can grab my stuff and go. I’m so sorry,” she blurted. 

“What?” Beca furrowed her brow, or Emily was pretty sure she did. It was hard to tell through the thick layer of tears breaching her eyelashes. 

“I started a fight, so you probably have to kick me out. It’s okay, I—”

Beca doubled over, laughing. Emily wiped her eyes to make sure she was seeing it correctly. No, Beca was definitely laughing. Downright wheezing, in fact. Finally, she collected herself and, grinning, opened the door. “Come on in, I have a story to tell you.”

Thirty minutes later it was Emily’s turn to be giggling, so hard she nearly fell off on the living room couch. “So you’re telling me,” she gasped, “that you punched an old dude, shattered an entire window, _and_ got arrested?” 

Beca chuckled, “And now I’m captain of the Bellas,” she shrugged, “Besides, Chloe and Amy have done _way_ worse than you have. I honestly don’t know how they’re alive. My point is,” Emily still had her eyes closed from laughing when she felt a small hand on her knee, “You’re not going anywhere, Em. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

Emily looked down. She knew the captain loathed physical touch, but there it was. She glanced up, meeting blue eyes that appeared darker than they were earlier. “What are you looking at, Legacy?” Beca quickly retracted the hand and busied it by tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Emily shook her head, freeing herself from whatever fantasy world she had just been inhabiting. “Nothing,” she replied with a weak smile, “just, thank you.”

“Thank _you_ dude, you totally defended my honor back there. I didn’t even know you were capable of that.”

“I’m finding out I’m capable of a lot, lately, I guess,” Emily yawned. It was late. Her dorm wasn’t too far, but it was still a significant trek alone at this hour. She hesitated. 

“You shouldn’t be going back to your place,” Beca supplied.

“Mm, sleeping on this couch should be easy anyway, considering I’ve almost done it during a few of Chloe’s longer lectures.”

“Oh, uh yea, okay.” 

Maybe it was the alcohol, but Emily thought she saw the girl’s face fall. Whatever the expression was vanished quickly and was replaced with a faceful of the blanket that Beca had tossed at her. “Sleep well, Legacy,” she heard. By the time she detangled herself from the fabric, Beca was gone.

Emily settled back, stretching her right hand, which still ached from making contact with a jawbone. She knew why she had done what she did. But did Beca? If she did, was that really so bad? It’s not like Beca didn’t have queer friends. She’d witnessed Stacie coming on to her more than once, without any repercussions. And then there was that moment just now…

Before she could ponder the situation any further, she was asleep. That is, until Chloe’s voice floated through the dark.

“Emily?”

* * *

Beca awoke to Amy patting her forehead clumsily. It was still dark. “Beca, we’ve an extra roomie for the night,” the Australian mumbled, “Chloe says that making Legacy sleep on the couch was borderline hazing and now you have to share your bed with her. Which is probably for the best, you know, on account of my sleep wrestling.” Without awaiting her friend’s reply, Amy clambered into bed and began snoring instantly. 

Meanwhile, Beca woke up enough to see the outline of her gangly charge standing by the door. 

“I can sleep on the floor, if you want. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” the shadow apologized.

“No dude, it’s fine. Plus, Chloe is already mad at me. Imagine what she would do if Amy told her you slept on the literal ground.” Before she could overthink it, Beca scooched against the wall and peeled back her comforter in a gesture of welcome. She took an overwhelming interest in the ceiling while the other girl stripped down to her boy shorts and bra. This did not stop her brain from deviously filling in the blanks. Finally, Emily crawled into bed beside her, mercifully facing away. 

“G’night, Beca,” Emily mumbled. Meanwhile, Beca was very much awake. The arrangement left less than an inch between her and the mostly-bare skin of her teammate. She could tell because she was breathing the scent of Emily’s grapefruit shampoo, and because every now and then her knee would bump against one of her silky, miles-long legs. She could also feel the cold wall pressing against her back. Beca tried to close her eyes, to shrink herself and create space between her body and that of the girl she’d been unreasonably fixated on. The wall pressed back harder. “Hey, Em?”

“Mmyea?”

“Do you think we could switch spots? I’m getting a little claustrophobic.”

“Oh, sure.”

Beca immediately regretted her request. She slid sideways to find Emily hovering over her, arms and legs straddling Beca’s body in transition to her new spot. Her face was close, confronting Beca with its huge, unfocused eyes, and the flutter of breath that still smelled like vodka sours. 

“Hi,” the freshman joked awkwardly, pausing for a moment. 

“Hi,” Beca wheezed out. The oxygen had evaporated from her lungs. 

Then Emily flopped down beside the wall, bidding Beca a second goodnight and leaving her once again alone with her thoughts. 

This was not okay. She couldn’t feel this way for a Bella, not as captain. And a freshman, no less? Beca was moving to Los Angeles after graduation, and if anyone was incapable of long distance, it was her. She couldn’t. So she wouldn’t. _Okay,_ she thought, _problem solved._

She shifted, knocking Emily’s hand by accident. “Sorry,” she whispered. Before she could move again, though, the sleeping girl reached out and intertwined their fingers tightly.

Beca didn’t let go.


	4. Curly Fries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food is eaten. Feelings are discussed. Clothes are stolen.

Emily sighed into the pillow, still in the empty bed where she had woken up. Beca was gone, her hectic schedule giving no leeway to sleep in. Amy had also left for the day, leaving the freshman on her own.

In Beca’s bed.

It smelled like her. Simple and clean, like fresh laundry. Understated. Of course Beca wouldn’t want to smell like flowers, or the bright fruit scents that Emily adored. _How in character,_ she mused to herself. And then the memories of last night started coming back to her — memories of Beca, as she knew her so far, acting entirely _out_ of character. Her mild hangover blurred the edges of her recollection, but the basics were there. Dancing with her new friends. Punching that creep. Laughing with Beca. Climbing into her bed… and then her face hovering above Beca’s. Just for a moment. Had it been a moment for them both? 

On cue, her phone buzzed. 

**Beca:** _Hey sexy ;) didn’t get to take u out to dinner before bedding u last nite. Wanna get sum? ;) ;)_

Emily barely felt her phone hit her face as she dropped it, far more aware of the way her blood rushed into her cheeks...and other places. She opened and closed her mouth a few times. Her phone buzzed again. 

**Beca:** _THAT WAS STACIE._ _i’m so sorry. stacie would like to make it clear that she is not, though._

Emily giggled, imagining the fun-sized captain wrestling her Amazon of a friend for her phone. Another message popped up.

 **Beca:** _since she already mentioned food - wanna grab lunch in 20? i still owe you for kicking ass at the bar._

The speed at which she replied _Yes!!_ nearly snapped her thumbs in half. Staring at the screen, she hummed happily. She paused, then hummed again, preceding it with a slightly higher note. Then more. Tumbling out of bed, she scrambled for the notebook in the pocket of last night’s jacket and started to scribble.

* * *

“There. I asked her. Happy?”

The two seniors sat at a small table in the corner of Fran’s, an on-campus diner. Beca had been lured there with the promise of curly fries. There were no fries, curly or otherwise. Just a beautiful, traitorous girl who stole phones and sent mortifying text messages.

“No,” Stacie narrowed her eyes at her best friend. Beca huffed, “What do you want from me, then?” throwing her hands up in mock surrender. 

“It’s not about what _I_ want, Becs,” Stacie said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I don’t get it.”

“I know you don’t. You’re emotionally stunted.”

“Am not!”

“Beca.” The tall girl grew serious and leaned forward, making Beca slide down in her chair a little. She didn’t like it when Stacie was serious. It meant there was nowhere to hide.

“You’ve been obsessed with this girl since you laid eyes on her — “

“Not obsessed — “

“OBSESSED. And yet you won’t let yourself even begin to feel the feelings that come with that, let alone act on it.”

“She doesn’t even like me like that.”

“You _just_ told me she held your hand.”

“She’s a Bella.”

“And when has that stopped you before?”

Beca squirmed, wishing she could withdraw to her room instead of sitting several feet from a door that Emily could walk through at any moment. “Chloe was different,” she said weakly.

“Different how? Because you knew it wouldn’t go anywhere? Because Emily could actually mean something to you, something you could lose?”

“Enough,” Beca snapped. Her expression turned stony. 

It was Stacie’s turn to wave a white flag, and she did so gracefully, slipping Beca a few dollars. “For the feelings jar,” she smirked, resuming a playful demeanor. Sensing the return, Beca allowed herself to smile back slightly.

“Just, I don’t know, talk to her. Or don’t,” Stacie shrugged, “You guys both make music, maybe that’s something you could do together. Anyway,” she stood up, “give it a chance. Don’t run from it just because you care for once.”

Beca watched her friend leave. As soon as she was gone, she flagged down a waitress.

“Hi, could I get some curly fries, please?” 

* * *

Ten minutes later, the door to Fran’s chimed softly. Emily stood in the doorway, haloed by the midday sun in a way that Beca considered extremely unfair. Beca waved her over, shoving a tall, frosty glass her way, “I, uh, ordered you a chocolate shake.” The younger girl’s eyes went wide and she greedily pulled the glass toward her. “Ohmygodthankyou,” she exclaimed, taking a long sip, “How’d you know I’d want chocolate?” 

“You seem like a death by chocolate kind of girl,” Beca replied, her chest warm with pride at having guessed correctly. Maybe this would go okay. 

She studied the freshman while sipping her own shake (vanilla, the best flavor). Beca was in awe of her ability to go from catwalk-ready to adorable girl next door. Less than twelve hours ago, she’d been all smoky eyes and tight fabric. Now, her hair sat on her head in a messy bun, and she was wearing… wait, what was she wearing?

Beca squinted, “Are you wearing my sweatshirt?”

Emily choked. Clearing her airway, she rambled an apology, “Is that not okay? I’m sorry, it’s just — you said twenty minutes and I know you’re busy so I didn’t want to ask for more time, and I couldn’t make it back to my dorm to change so I just thought — I can give it back.”

“No, dude, it’s fine,” Beca interjected, half-worried the legacy would begin stripping right then and there. She was surprised to find, then, that she meant it. While she would normally ream anyone who used her belongings without permission, she liked the idea of Emily inhabiting something that was hers. 

“Plus,” she continued, “it looks better on you.” She meant that, too. Emily’s height turned what had been an oversized black hoodie into a crop, baring a sliver of skin just above her waistband. Beca tried not to look, instead pushing her basket of fries across the table. “Want one?”

Emily flinched, “No thanks.”

“What? You don’t like curly fries?”

“No, they remind me too much of duck penises.”

Beca snorted, but the legacy didn’t join her. “Duck… penises? You’re serious?” she repeated. Emily nodded solemnly. For someone who constantly found new ways to embarrass herself, the girl was astonishingly shameless about the strangest things. 

“Ducks have curly penises,” she explained, “I found out when I was fifteen, and I haven’t eaten any kind of flaccid corkscrew since.”

“So you’re telling me,” Beca grinned, an idea forming, “that you’ve deprived yourself of what is, objectively, the best type of french fry, because you’re afraid it’s like giving a duck a blowjob?”

“Eeeew,” Emily pulled a face, “No — well, yes — but no.”

The senior stared the freshman down, trying her best not to melt in the deep brown of her irises. “I dare you. Just take one bite. It’s a potato.” 

“No way!”

“If you like it, I win,” Beca continued, “And you have to help me finish the arrangements for Worlds.” Emily leaned forward, “Fine. And if I win?”

Beca placed a fry in the younger girl’s palm. “What do you want?”

In that moment, Beca wished she could read minds, because whatever Emily’s first answer was made her blush furiously. For better or worse, it went unvoiced.

“If I win,” she replied after some consideration, “I get a favor from you, TBD.”

“You’re on.”

Emily raised the fry to her lips, dangling it in suspense. Beca drummed the table encouragingly. Scrunching her nose, she popped it into her mouth and chewed. Then she stopped, made a pained look, and dove for her napkin, spitting out the remains.

“OH, COME ON!” Beca exclaimed, “You’re lying.” But the way the legacy desperately chugged the dregs of her milkshake indicated otherwise. 

“I tried, I swear. I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“Fine, fine,” she conceded. They both fell quiet, unsure of how to steer the conversation past avian genitalia. _Just talk. Or don’t._ “Hey...would you want to help me with the arrangements anyway?”

The freshman perked up, “Really?”

Every muscle in Beca’s body wanted to mirror the excitement. She settled for a nonchalant shrug. “I could use someone to bounce ideas off of. Do you — “ Her phone buzzed.

 **Sammy (Boss):** _Snoop in studio. Get here now._

“Shit, I gotta go. I’ll text you.” She tossed down a few bills, heading for the door, then turned back, “Oh, and uh, keep the sweatshirt. It really does look better on you.” She rushed out.

Had she glanced back, she would’ve witnessed Emily pull the garment’s neck up to her nose and inhale deeply.


	5. Late Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this the one you've been waiting for? Let's see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but it's a double upload, don't worry. I wouldn't do that to you.

Working on the Bellas’ arrangements was a dream come true for Emily in more ways than one.

One-on-one mentorship with Beca was invaluable. She learned more from a single session with the senior than she had in any music class. They made a good team, Beca’s firm grasp on rhythm and key-matching powerfully complemented by Emily’s inborn talent with lyrics and vocal lines. At the same time, arranging meant Emily got to see Beca. A lot. What began as meeting once a week quickly became several times. As Worlds neared, they began to meet almost every night. And while the work was intensive, the pair found themselves taking breaks to do other things together, too. Emily became extremely familiar with Beca’s takeout preferences, including her unequivocal loathing for green peppers. Beca threatened to ban Emily from her room after discovering the freshman’s “Country Love” playlist. 

Then there were the late nights. Evenings that threatened to stretch into mornings, where either exhaustion or the safety of a sleeping world made it easier to open up. Emily surprised the senior with the revelation that she had significant anxiety, and had begun writing music as a coping mechanism. Beca reciprocated by telling the story of her parents’ divorce, leaving Emily in tears — not only for the broken marriage, but for the toll it had clearly taken on the captain. That night, as they drifted off in Beca’s bed (a setup that had become commonplace whenever they worked past midnight), it was Beca who reached for Emily’s hand.

Two months out from Worlds, the duo agreed to meet at the Bellas’ house to finalize their closing song. Emily yawned and shut her Intro to Psych textbook. It was eleven, and the living room was dim and quiet. All the other Bellas had gone to their rooms to sleep or cram in anticipation of exams. Reluctant to touch an arrangement without Beca, Emily had been studying, too, but the older girl was now three hours late. _She’s fine_ , Emily told herself. _What if she’s not?_ her brain whispered. Hand itching, she reached for her phone to send a check in text. Before she could, the front door slammed.

“Beca?”

The Bellas captain poked her head around the corner. “Oh, hey legacy,” she said, voice watery, “Sorry I’m late. Let’s just forget it tonight.”

Emily frowned, “Okay. It’s just — “ She stopped herself. Beca had stepped closer, and Emily could now see that the senior’s eyes were red and slightly puffy.

“What?” Beca snapped. Emily recoiled.

“Chloe said she needed a final version by tomorrow...are you okay?”

Beca crossed the room and sank into the couch next to the freshman, burying her face in her hands. “I don’t know,” she muttered, “I mean, I can’t really do much to help you with the arrangement considering I ‘have nothing to say,’” she chuckled wryly, “That’s music industry speak for ‘I suck.’”

Emily had never seen the older girl like this before. Insecure. 

She scooted closer. “Beca, what’s going on?” She gently pried one hand from Beca’s face and peered into a single blue eye, “Talk to me.”

She waited, giving the words time to formulate on Beca’s tongue. The senior shifted, pulling her knees to her chest and hugging them tightly. Now sufficiently guarded, she began, “You know how I’m gone all the time, and, like, super late to rehearsals? I know Chloe thinks I’m having some secret love affair, and Lily keeps asking which cult I’ve joined,” she snorted, “but the truth is, I’m doing an internship. At Residual Heat, the record company.”

“What? That’s amazing!” Emily exclaimed.

“It was,” Beca nodded, “It is. I think, anyway. But I gave my boss a demo of my music, mashups I worked really hard on. And he _hated_ it, all because they’re not original songs.” She sniffed and fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, “He’s giving me a second chance but I...I don’t have anything to show him. I’ve been trying all night. So maybe he’s right. Maybe I don’t have anything to say.”

She lifted her head, both eyes burning into Emily. “I wish I could do what you do.”

Emily looked away, ears hot. “I feel the same way about you,” she admitted, “You’re so good, it’s intimidating. All I’ve ever wanted is to be like you — not a legacy. A Bella. A real musician.”

A finger went under Emily’s chin, Beca tilting her head up so they were face to face. Like, inches away, face to face. Emily’s eyes betrayed her, flicking to Beca’s mouth.

“Emily, you’re one of the most talented musicians I’ve ever met. Without you, we wouldn’t be halfway ready for Worlds, let alone have a chance to win. So of course you’re a Bella.” She murmured, “We’re with you for life, dude.”

Beca’s hand stayed where it was. Emily’s skin tingled. Her pulse thrummed in her neck, waiting for the touch to end, for Beca to stop piercing her soul with those ocean eyes, for her own better judgement to kick in before — 

“Do you want to collaborate on something?”

Emily gave her head a dumbfounded shake, taken aback both by the words themselves and the tentative, unsure voice in which Beca had spoken them. Beca wanted _her_ help producing a _real_ demo?

“Wh- Are you serious?

“Yeah…?”

“Wow. Yeah! Man, yes!”

Emily whooped, and Beca smiled. It was a rare smile; one without a hint of irony. And it was that expression — its vulnerability, and its warmth, that dissolved Emily’s restraint. 

Before any rational thought could stop her, she placed a hand on Beca’s neck and pulled her into a deep, searing kiss.


	6. Oops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want more of that last bit? Okay.  
> CW: Anxiety attack

Emily consumed her. She couldn’t think. All of her thoughts were superseded, replaced by the sensations of the freshman’s hand on her neck, her soft lips against her own, the taste of green tea lip balm, the smell of grapefruit. It was too much and not enough.

Before Beca could gather herself to reciprocate, it was over. Emily jerked backwards, seemingly appalled. Beca checked her breath.

“I — Beca, I’m so sorry, I’m so, I didn’t — “ the younger girl was trembling.

“Wait, what? Dude — “

“I know, we’re both Bellas and, and you’re probably straight and I’m a creep for even thinking of you that way so I should just — fuck — I’m gonna go.”

Emily made to get up. Beca grabbed her hand. Tugging her back down, she overbalanced, and the taller girl ended up in her lap. Going with it, Beca looped both arms around the girl’s waist and held tight, tracing slow circles on her back. It didn’t take long. After a few minutes, Emily’s rigid form relaxed into her, quiet but for an occasional shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” the freshman whispered again, into Beca’s neck. Beca turned her head and nuzzled the dark tresses on her shoulder. “Em, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“But — “

“Okay, I’m a little offended that you think I’m straight, but other than that…”

Emily sat up, straddling Beca, and blinked at her with doe eyes. Were the girl not recovering from a bout of anxiety, Beca would have pulled her back into a kiss that very instant. Instead, she patted Emily’s thigh and blinked back, letting her digest the news.

“You’re…”

“I am. Very gay. The most gay.”

“Oh.” Emily flushed prettily. Beca’s breath grew shallow.

“Which makes our current position very convenient, considering the girl I like is sitting in my lap — and, if she wanted to, I could totally make out with her right now.”

A single nod was all it took for the pair to crash together once more, months of longing unwinding at the junction of their lips. Beca sighed into Emily’s mouth, savoring the sensation of slender fingers tangling in her hair. Emily’s kiss was fervent, but mind-bogglingly deliberate. With little effort, she coaxed her way into a deeper exchange. Either she had a lot of practice, or this was yet another inborn talent. Her tongue stroked Beca’s precisely when she craved it; her teeth nipped her lower lip just enough to elicit a moan; her body pressed itself against the petite senior, creating friction right where —

“Well, well, well.”

If their goal was to look inconspicuous to their intruder, they failed miserably. Beca peeked around Emily, who had frozen in place on her lap, and saw Stacie grinning back, looking like she had just won a lottery’s worth of curly fries.

“I was just coming down to refill my coffee, but I’m glad to see our arrangement is coming along so beautifully,” she said, voice dripping with gratification, “Please, don’t stop on my account.”

“Get fucked, Stace,” Beca shot, though the hostility came across half-hearted.

“Not if you get fucked first,” she retorted cheerfully, disappearing back around the corner with a wave and a small “be safe kids.”

Beca huffed. Emily reluctantly peeled herself away, sitting down close by, but not close enough for the senior’s taste. “Admittedly, macking in the living room, maybe not the brightest idea,” Emily joked.

The freshman was trying to get a read on her, Beca knew that much. She needed reassurance. And were Beca an emotionally intact human person, she could’ve given plenty. But she wasn’t.

Instead, she said, “Could we not tell anyone about this for now? The Bellas, I mean. Not, not that they’d have a problem with it,” she corrected, seeing Emily deflate, “I just know they’ll make some huge deal of it, and get distracted, and it’s just one more thing for Chloe to hold against me.”

“Totally, I get it.”

Fuck. The younger girl put on a brave face, but Beca could practically see the rain clouds moving in on Emily’s relentless ray of sunshine. _Make a joke or something, you absolute fuckboy._ She nudged Emily’s foot with her own. “Our secret is safe with Stacie. Her legs may be open for business, but when it comes to gossip she’s an absolute vault.”

“Mm.”

Words weren’t cutting it, so Beca changed gears. She gave Emily a long, slow kiss, and linked their fingers together. With her free hand, she opened her laptop. “So, my lyrical genius,” she began. Emily brightened visibly at that. “What’s this demo gonna be?”

Emily became a one-woman brainstorm, rattling off concepts like they came to her through a divine source. Beca listened as if they did.


End file.
